After more than an hour of excitement, the Yao Family's "Great Immortal" finally finished the ritual dance.
Old Yao thanked repeatedly, gave a red envelope, nodded, and bowed, looking incredibly respectful.
"Great Immortal, thank you so much. Since you've helped us through this crisis, my old ox shouldn't die, right?"
Old Yao wore a big smile, and his superstitious demeanor was truly laughable.
"Don't worry, I've been in this line of work for over twenty years and have never failed. Your old ox will definitely be fine."
An old woman, about five feet tall and one hundred sixty pounds, patted her chest in assurance, looking all mysterious, even her eyes seemed glazed over.
Con artists like her love to boast.
If you gave her a little more white liquor, she'd probably claim to be a relative of Tai Shang Laojun.
Zhao Tienan was dismissive of this, not even bothering to give it another glance.
